The Performance
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: Soon after they return from Arizona, Gibbs lets Tony know he doesn't want him to leave NCIS. And he doesn't use words. Slash: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs. First Time, Rough Sex, Homophobia, fear of being outed, Tony in Philly, Tony's Past, Tony's hiding he's gay, 6x17, Episode: s06e17 South by Southwest. 4/4 chapters COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Spoilers: Takes place after South by Southwest, 6x17  
Genre: slash, first time  
Warnings: rough sex, homophobic slurs

Rating: adult, M  
Spoilers: 6x17 South by Southwest  
Style: varying tenses, changes between time periods  
Chapters: 4

Tags: mute Gibbs, dirty talking Gibbs, dominant and submissive roles on the job and in everyday life, first time, rough sex, car sex, homophobia, Philly cops, Tony's past, hiding he's gay, angst, fear of being outed.  
Thanks to Betas: firesign10 and Jacie!

. . . .

 **Chapter 1  
** **Pursuance**

 _ _March 30, 2009, Washington, DC, cinema parking lot__

On a freezing cold night in March, a month after they return from tracking down Dina Risi in Arizona, Tony takes Gibbs to the late-night movie at the Regal. They're showing a restored version of __The Bridge on the River Kwai__. Tony wishes it was __North by Northwest,__ which would tie in with their trip out west and being shot at by a killer in a helicopter. Still, Gibbs seems to enjoy the movie, and that's what really matters.

Gibbs comes out of the cinema as horny as hell. Maybe it's the sights and sounds of war that gets him all revved up, with the massive explosions, heart-pounding action and acts of bravery. More likely, it is due to seeing a bare-chested, defiant William Holden sweating under the hot Burmese sun. Either way, they barely make it back to the car before Gibbs shoves Tony against the cold hard metal and starts kissing him.

Tony would never say no to a make-out session with Gibbs, but he squirms because the door handle is digging into his back. Lips locked, and with Gibbs' tongue doing things that make his knees go weak, Tony makes a high, undignified sound. Gibbs' response is to grunt and dig his fingers into Tony's hips, keeping him still while he kisses his way across Tony's face to a soft spot just under his ear.

Tony gasps and takes in a lungful of cold night air. "Jethro?"

Gibbs is busy sucking Tony's neck, and from his vague "Mmm…" response, it seems as if he isn't really listening.

"Jethro? Uh, this is… _ _oh fuck__ …really nice but I'm… _ _oh that's good__ … Can you stop? Can you…? C'mon, I'm freezing my balls off."

There's a non-committal grunt as Gibbs' hand rubs Tony's crotch through his wool trousers. Gibbs, intent on sex, is not so different from Gibbs intent upon a case: focused, passionate, taking what he wants.

Tony lifts his chin to give Gibbs better access for soft, sucking kisses, and he closes his eyes, momentarily yielding to the sensation. Despite the heat emanating off Gibbs' body, Tony shivers. He opens his eyes and focuses on the vapor from his breath rising in the frigid night. Much more of this and his lungs will start to hurt, but he can't stop Gibbs, who is now fondling his balls. The wind cuts through Tony's warm clothing, even though he's wearing boots with wool socks, corduroys, his favorite Versace turtleneck in steel gray cashmere, and a long leather coat topped with a Burberry scarf and gloves.

Gibbs doesn't give a shit about designer labels, and he's shocked at the prices Tony pays for clothes, but right now there is reverence in his touch when he slides a hand under the cashmere sweater and strokes Tony's stomach with one big hand. He pushes the sweater up under Tony's armpits and mouths a nipple, sucking on it until Tony's toes curl in his designer shoes. Gibbs soon tires of being gentle. He latches onto the hardened nub with his teeth and tugs until Tony squeals.

As always, Gibbs is relentless when it comes to sex. He captures Tony's gloved hands when Tony tries to pull his sweater down, and after a brief struggle Gibbs pins Tony's hands at his sides. "You gonna fight me on this?" Gibbs growls.

Gibbs loves it when he fights back, the harder the better, so Tony struggles to get away. He knees at Gibbs' groin, but Gibbs counters it, chuckling.

"It's too cold." Tony twists, trying to move past Gibbs even though his hands are still pinned.

It's as if Tony hasn't even spoken. Gibbs uses his weight, pushing him against the unforgiving, cold car. He kisses him hard, slipping his hot tongue between Tony's parted lips. Gibbs' erection is pressing insistently against his thigh. Tony can feel it even though Gibbs is wearing heavy Sears' trousers. Gibbs' slick tongue explores his mouth, hot and wet, inducing a low moan from him.

He takes in Gibbs' heat as if it's a lifesaver, and finds himself melting under his insistent kisses. Gibbs' mouth is on his neck again, nipping and then biting hard, and when Tony makes a small grunt of protest, Gibbs moves on to his earlobe, his chin, his lower lip. For a while Tony forgets how exposed they are in the open parking lot and simply savors being the center of Gibbs' attention. Eventually he gets his hands free and pushes at Gibbs' chest, meaning it this time.

"Someone'll see us," says Tony, breathing heavily.

"We're alone," Gibbs mutters.

It's true; there's nobody around. They're parked in a dark spot, way at the back of the lot. By now all the other late-night moviegoers have located their cars and set off for their warm homes, without ever seeing the two men locked in an ardent embrace. Even so, Tony is skittish about being seen. Gibbs is well aware he doesn't want anyone to know they're lovers, but he doesn't know the reason why.

 **•-•-•-•**

 _ _1998-1999, Philadelphia, ten years earlier__

Philadelphia was bad. The dirty looks and homophobic slurs were rampant, all because his fellow officers' locker room mentality carried out into the streets. The leaders allowed it, which was incredibly stupid, because it made for a tense, dangerous work environment for everybody. If you were a gay cop, or if some asshole decided you must be a fag for whatever reason, you were on your own. You didn't get backup when you called for it. Someone would withhold the necessary information and you'd find yourself walking into a deadly situation. You never knew what was around the corner or who would be delivering the next blow.

There were half a dozen cops at the 22nd who ganged together to harass anyone who didn't meet their criteria for what made a man a man. They were all seasoned policemen, and apparently Captain Cerrone was willing to turn a blind eye to their escapades. There were plenty of officers who didn't join in, and didn't agree with the bullying that went on, but they did nothing to stop it either.

One of the detectives, Bob Bartley, homed in on Tony from the get-go. The first time Bartley directed a crude remark about homosexuals at Tony, he didn't know what to make of it. He thought it was an ugly hazing ritual he had to get through. But when other officers at the precinct joined in, Tony realized he was in trouble.

Tony tried hard to be one of the boys in the hope it would get the bullying cops off his back, but it seemed like the harder he tried, the less they believed him. They said, "Sure, prove you're not gay," and pushed him to join in, to get on the case of anyone they decreed was a fag. Tony refused, so they did their best to make his life miserable. While Tony had never looked at another man with interest, he ended up on the shit list anyway.

He tried countering the jokes and insults, saying something clever in return. The homophobic stuff kept coming so Tony avoided the men and did his best to ignore their jibes. It didn't work; they were persistent.

Bartley and his friends treated Tony like crap on a regular basis; there were stupid jokes and whispered insults, dirty things said behind his back. They left demeaning cartoons, dog crap, jock straps, dildos, and whatever their Neanderthal brains thought was funny in his locker. Tony gave up using his locker at work and kept his personal stuff in his car. When his car was vandalized right in the police station parking lot, he started to use public transportation. Tony kept a few things like toiletries and a clean shirt in his desk, all easily replaceable, and he made sure to lock the drawers. Nobody broke into his desk; apparently the cops weren't willing to commit a crime in the squad room where the captain might see them.

Tony wasn't the only one being harassed; he was aware of three men at the precinct who were being hassled the same way. He suggested they should work together to stop the persecution, but none of the others would even talk to him. Complaints to the captain only made things worse, and Tony soon learned he had to fight his own battles.

It was as if he had a target on his back, and he had no clue why. Where had this come from, this assumption that he was gay, and an easy target, Tony wondered? He was positive he hadn't portrayed himself as anything but fun loving, skirt-chasing, jock Tony DiNozzo. Heterosexual straight down the line, that was him.

He had been going out with women since he was fifteen. Admittedly, he'd been ignoring the side of him that wanted to dip his toe in the boy's side of the pond, but no way anyone could know that, certainly not the women he dated. Tony knew how to satisfy the ladies; dinner, dancing, and they all said he was a wonderful lover. Well, almost all of them. A few of his affairs had ended unpleasantly, usually because the woman was pissed off at his juvenile comments or lack of commitment. Yeah, he could think of one or two if his former dates who might start a rumor out of spite.

Still, Tony did his job as well as he could. He was assigned a beat in a down-and-out neighborhood, but he made a point of getting to know the shopkeepers and residents. Now and then he'd be paired up with another patrol cop but it never lasted long; they kept getting reassigned. There were plenty of illegal goings-on to keep him busy, and Tony made more arrests while working solo than many of the more experienced police in the precinct. Tony made the best of a bad situation, and he learned to be streetwise by keeping his eyes open.

Four cops, including Bartley, cornered Tony in an empty interrogation room one day; it left him badly shaken. Whether their intention was just to rough him up, or if they planned to rape him, Tony never found out. They tried some heavy groping, but he got in a couple of good punches and managed to break Bartley's nose. He made so much noise that the desk sergeant busted in and put a stop to it. A report was filed and wrists were slapped, but Tony knew that nothing would really change.

Tony got a lucky break soon after. Detective Bartley, nose still heavily bruised, got shot in the leg on the way into his own apartment building one night. He almost bled to death before he got help, and ended up with enough plates and screws in his shattered leg to end his career.

They never caught his assailant.

From the way Tony's fellow officers stared angrily at him and gave him wide berth, they must have believed he had something to do with it. Tony just gave them a tight smile and let them think what they wanted.

The harassment eased after that, but everyone shunned him. Nobody wanted to partner with Tony, not that he ever minded working on his own. He hadn't had a steady partner since he'd started in Philly, anyway. They'd say, "I like you, DiNozzo, but…sorry, I just can't risk it. I got a wife, a family," just before they abandoned him.

They wanted to drive him out, but Tony had been a detective for three years by then, two of them in Peoria, and he had one of the best records in the precinct. He refused to give in, to walk away. He talked Chief Inspector McManus into assigning him to a special crimes unit who worked out of a different precinct, and spent the next year working on one undercover assignment after another.

As soon as an opportunity opened up in Baltimore, Tony took it and never looked back. His new partner, Danny Price, was exactly what he needed. Danny was positive and brash and didn't put up with any crap. He said what he thought, but never said a mean thing to anyone. He told Tony that you had to accept two things: that the world was a cesspool, and that you needed to build an unsinkable boat.

At least in Baltimore, the police had better things to worry about, like dealing the city's unchecked violence and crime, and a huge workload that never diminished. Tony made some solid friends and had a supportive captain, and things slowly looked up. When rumors of his alleged sexual preferences caught up with him months after he'd moved to Baltimore, Tony panicked – until he realized that nobody seemed to care. He was, he told himself, strong enough to shrug off any negative shit, but little came his way.

If anyone asked outright, which was rare, Tony denied and deflected, using skills he had perfected while working undercover in Philly. Like an actor preparing for a major role, Tony worked at his craft, creating a persona so good, so deep, that even he came to believe it.

 **•-•-•-•**


	2. Chapter 2

**(see warnings and tags in chapter 1)**

• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •

 **Attainment**

 _ _March 30, 2009, Washington, DC, cinema parking lot__

"Please," Tony mumbles into Gibbs' mouth, reluctant to break off the kiss that's making his knees weak and his dick hard. "Not here."

Apparently Gibbs doesn't sense any curious eyes in the cinema's desolate parking lot, or else he doesn't care. Tony figures it's the second one when Gibbs leans into him and rolls his hips suggestively. "So we make out in the car," Gibbs says with a wicked smile.

Being fucked inside the car, cramped though it may be, would be preferable to being fucked outside in the cold night air, yet Tony frowns and gives Gibbs a hard time. "You think one of these days we might actually do it in a bed? You know, one of those big, soft things that normal people sleep in? With fine sheets and big feather pillows, and a chenille comforter that feels so good when you slide your naked butt across it? I mean, it's been a few weeks since we got back from Arizona and so far we've done it on the couch, on the floor, the basement and in the kitch–"

Tony lets out a surprised sound when Gibbs grabs his arm, opens the door of the Challenger, pulls the back of the seat forward and unceremoniously pushes him into the back.

"Just get in the damned car, DiNozzo."

• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •

 _ _March 29, 2009, NCIS, Washington, DC__

On occasion, Tony has caught Abby looking at them speculatively when he and Gibbs are in the same room. Tony is positive that he doesn't show any outward sign that he's the luckiest man in the world because for the past six weeks Gibbs has fucked him on a regular basis, and he lets Tony suck his dick in the shower. She can't possibly know any of this though. After all, Tony has been undercover his entire adult life, and Gibbs is extremely good at keeping his cards close to the vest. He'd never give any sign they had something going on outside the office, no familiar glances, no on-the-sly touches, no blowjobs in the stalled elevator. If anything, Gibbs is harder on him at work, due to their relationship. Not that Gibbs would use that word – relationship. But they are together, connected in some deeper way. After hours, anyway, having sex, and a lot of it. Wasn't that the definition of a relationship?

But Abby is observant and possesses strong deductive powers, so Tony is extra cautious when he's around her. Of course she knows that he and Gibbs are friends outside of work – the 'Tony leaves right after the football game on TV is over' kind of friends, not the 'Gibbs fucks Tony over the back of the couch until he screams' kind of friends. If she knew, or even suspected, that they are that second type of friends, she'd be all over them asking intrusive questions. Plus, once Abby knows, or even __thinks__ she knows what's going on between them, that'll be the end of the big secret.

Tony does not want there to be even slightest hint of suspicion that he is gay, or bi-sexual, so he is glad that Gibbs agrees on keeping it private. He isn't ashamed of being Gibbs' lover, not at all, but he doesn't want their teammates to know. It's not just about worrying about the reaction from people he works with, the speculation, curiosity, or even distaste for what he and Gibbs are doing together. It's more than that; he's afraid how Tim and Ziva, and even Jimmy and Ducky, will react once it registers that he has been lying about a lot more than his relationship with Gibbs.

If they look closely, they'll see him for the fraud he is. His whole life, he's been careful about what he allows others to know about him; even those who are closest to him don't get the real deal. His therapist says he doesn't want to be appraised and found lacking, that he has "an unhealthy belief that the real Tony DiNozzo isn't someone anyone would even care to know." This Tony DiNozzo they see every day, this is the personality he started to develop when he was barely twelve. This Tony is the character who loves the ladies, classic movies, and '80s TV detectives. He's the guy who puts on a show, who is talkative and hardworking and loyal. He is the entertaining guy, too, the one who can all-too-quickly become annoying when he takes things too far. That's the guy they see, and that's exactly how Tony wants to be perceived.

"Abby's my best friend, Gibbs," Tony said, just that morning over coffee in Gibbs' kitchen. "What's going to happen when she asks me outright? I hate lying to her." Knowing Abby, she'll probably catch on right away anyway. "If… _ _when__ she finds out, she's going to be really hurt." He dreaded that moment. Abby might forgive Gibbs, but she would never forgive him.

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs admonished.

In a small voice, Tony said, "I know we've only been together a few weeks, but…" He didn't want to think about how long this was going to last. Not long enough, if he knew the way of the world. Gibbs seemed to be serious, and think this was long term, but then he'd felt that way about all his marriages. Funny to think that Gibbs was the positive one in this relationship.

"Not anyone's damned business, not even Abby's," was Gibbs' opinion on the matter. After a pause he added, almost under his breath, "I thought __I__ was your best friend."

"You are!" Tony hugged Gibbs, arms tight around his shoulders, and said vehemently, "You're more than just a friend to me, Jethro. You're _ _everything__." Gibbs pulled back and scowled at the sappy comment, but Tony could tell that he was pleased.

Tony knows that there is no point in pushing Gibbs to express how he feels, like in actual words. He finds it odd that any son of the garrulous Jackson Gibbs would be quite so inarticulate. Surprisingly, Tony finds he doesn't really mind that Gibbs can't say the word __love__ , can't even say, _ _'Tony, I care about you__.' Hell, he rarely calls him Tony, not even in bed. Still, he knows that Gibbs cares about him, even loves him – in his own way – and that's enough. He can live with that, so long as he can live with Gibbs.

Besides, Tony reasons, Gibbs thinks of him as his best friend, and they both know that friendships last longer than lovers. "Want to go to a movie tonight? __The Bridge on the River Kwai__ is showing."

• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •

 _ _February 28, 2009, at Gibbs' house in Alexandria, the day they return from Arizona__

"My place, dinner," Gibbs ordered, the minute the plane from Phoenix touched down at Reagan. He strode off to get the car without even looking at Tony, his dark gray overcoat flapping behind him like wings.

Being told to come to dinner __might__ have been a suggestion because Gibbs rarely ordered Tony around outside of work, but it __sounded__ like an order – so Tony obeyed. "Now I'm Pavlov's dog," he muttered, as he picked up his bags and dragged his ass – still sore from negotiating rocky trails on horseback – after his boss.

A few hours later, after stopping at the Navy Yard to write their reports and file evidence, the two men were eating dinner at Gibbs' kitchen table. Gibbs managed to put together a decent meal of leftovers: cold steak and piping hot fried potatoes, coupled with ice-cold beer, and it wasn't half bad.

The unflattering fluorescent lights made the freckles on Gibbs' forehead stand out, Tony observed, as he finished the last of the crispy fried potatoes on his plate. The Arizona sun had been strong. Despite using a liberal amount sunscreen, their faces had been sunburned, though Tony had come away with more of a tan. Gibbs glared at him from across the table, his blue eyes looking washed out in his sunburned face. He'd been nothing but grouchy the whole trip. Tony wondered what the hell had gotten into his boss, but he was, frankly, too tired to ask. He wasn't too sure he even wanted to know.

Before they'd left work, Tony had revealed to the team that Uncle Clive's fortune had been left to his cousin, Crispian. Tony had told them that he had to make good on an IOU he wrote while back in college, but he'd shrugged off both the lack of any inheritance and his outstanding debt.

Ever since the inheritance had first been mentioned, Gibbs had been sending Tony these odd looks, as if he didn't believe him. It seemed as though Gibbs couldn't get a handle on what was going on with him, even though Tony had told them the truth. It suddenly struck him that perhaps Gibbs was so used to him throwing up smokescreens that he assumed Tony was always lying. Tony found it very troubling that Gibbs didn't believe him when he was actually being sincere. Of all people, Gibbs should be able to tell the difference.

So there they sat at the kitchen table, empty plates pushed aside, yet another beer in hand, and not talking. After a few minutes, Tony had had enough silence so he cleared his throat and asked directly, "You pissed at me about something, Boss?"

Gibbs dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. His jaw worked when he met Tony's eyes, but he remained mute.

Okay, that didn't look very hopeful. Tony tried again. "Look, Boss, I'm sorry I slowed things down because I'm a greenhorn, as Sheriff Boyd so kindly pointed out. I haven't been on a horse since I was ten, at my cousin's birthday – although technically that was a pony and not some frisky mustang – but I think by the end of our trek I… well, I sort of got the hang of it. I mean, we were trotting along at a pretty good clip at one point when we were being buzzed by the crazy guy in the helicopter and not only did I not fall off, but I kept Dina Risi safe while you were busy taking the bad guy down. On a side note, I'd like to take this opportunity to say your shooting was pretty darned impressive." Tony nodded effusively even though he'd started to get angry halfway through his speech.

After a lot of scowling and clearing of his throat, Gibbs finally grunted, "Damn it, DiNozzo…"

And there the conversation stalled.

Tony gave a deep sigh. Well, this seemed like a good time to leave. He was dying to get home so he could wash the particles of Arizona desert out of his butt-crack because it was __really__ uncomfortable, sort of like sitting on sandpaper, and it didn't look like Gibbs was going to spit out whatever was on his mind anytime soon. Exhausted and saddle-sore from their trek through the badlands of Arizona, and more than a bit preoccupied about how he was going to find the money to repay the IOU, Tony threw caution to the wind and blurted, "Jesus, Gibbs, if this is all I'm ever gonna get out of you, maybe I should've stayed in England after the funeral last month. There's always a spot for me in the family business." It was an empty threat, but Gibbs wouldn't know that.

Gibbs looked like he was about to explode. Suddenly he thumped his fists on the table, rattling their empty dinner plates and causing their forks to jump in the air. "No! You belong here." And then he took hold of Tony's wrist in his iron grip and dragged him out of his chair. Before he could protest, Tony was pulled around the table and into Gibbs' arms, and Gibbs – __Gibbs!__ – was kissing him in the middle of the damned kitchen.

Tony stiffened with surprise, and he may have resisted a bit because getting grabbed by Gibbs was the last thing he'd __ever__ expected, but then the heat and passion of the kiss pulled him out of his stupor, and he angled his head and kissed Gibbs right back, tongue and all. Gibbs could kiss, good Lord could he ever, but Tony gave him a run for his money, using his tongue and teeth and plenty of encouraging noises. The arms around him tightened and there was a brief struggle for dominance, but Gibbs won – so easily that Tony knew he was being reeled in by a pro. Tony melted into Gibbs' arms, sensing that he'd never stood a chance in the first place.

Their mouths were still melded together when, with one sweep of his arm, Gibbs blindly sent everything on the table crashing to the floor. Tony was enthralled; they were acting out a scene from __The Postman Always Rings Twice__ – the 1946 version. He could hear Cora laying into Frank Chambers, 'So, your mind's made up? Without even talking it over with me, your mind's made up.'

Without warning, the kiss was over; it was as if someone had hit the pause button. They stood there panting, with broken crockery crunching under their feet, Gibbs' hands gripping Tony's upper arms, probably to prevent him from running for the door. Wild-eyed, Tony trembled with trepidation and although his mouth was hanging open he couldn't think of a single thing to say. His tongue swept across his swollen lips in a long, languid gesture and he met Gibbs' stare full on. The older man's pupils were so large it was impossible to determine that his eyes were blue, but it was the raw emotion in them, the fire and lust in their depths that shook Tony. And that's when he knew: this was for __him__ , because of __him__.

"Oh God," Tony whispered, suddenly afraid of where this was going, and what Gibbs would discover when he was laid bare for the world to see.

Gibbs didn't speak. He stripped Tony of his shirt and sweater, and yanked his pants and underwear down and off with efficiency and purpose. Tony found himself manhandled. A hand on his back pressured him to bend at the waist, and he found himself face down over the kitchen table with his cheek plastered to the well-worn wood before it fully sunk in what Gibbs intended to do. Tony was shocked and terribly turned on. He had never imagined anything like this would happen between them. And why would he? This was Gibbs, he thought, and Gibbs had that rule, number…whatever the hell number it was, and Gibbs does not fuck the people he works with.

Gibbs pressed up behind him, leaning over him, so close Tony could feel the roughness of his jeans rubbing against his bare ass. Tony closed his eyes and muttered a broken, "Fuck…"

His hardening dick was squashed against the even harder surface of the table, and even though the shaft twitched, practically begging to be handled, Tony had no way of touching himself, not with Gibbs weighing heavily on his back. Gibbs imprisoned Tony's hands within his callused grasp, guiding him to stretch out his arms and hold onto the far edges of the table. Without uttering a word, Gibbs made it clear that Tony was not to let go by pressing his palms against the backs of his hands. This only served to make Tony even harder and his attempt to buck his hips a little was halted when Gibbs took a firm hold of his waist and growled in his ear, "Stay," before releasing him with a smack on his rear.

It was an order that Tony knew enough to obey; it never entered his head that he could resist. Hell, he badly wanted to do whatever Gibbs told him to do, and right then and there Tony knew that if the man ordered him to jump off the proverbial cliff, he would do it.

The kitchen was quiet except for the ticking of the clock over the stove and the sound of Tony's ragged breathing. He should run for the door. __Now__ , before Gibbs comes back. Go ahead, run for it…

A second later Gibbs returned. Still gripping the edges of the table, Tony raised his head and caught sight of Gibbs walking towards him with a very large tube of lubricant in one hand. Gibbs had lost his pants along the way and was now barefoot and clad in only a white t-shirt, and as if that wasn't enough to freak Tony out, Gibbs' dick was erect and bobbing as he approached.

Tony swallowed hard and moaned, "Oh shit."

Gibbs was right up behind him again. He kissed Tony's bare shoulders and along his spine to the back of his neck, his mouth warm and moist, and stroked him up and down his flanks with hands rough from woodworking. Within minutes, he had Tony panting and whining. "Now," Gibbs said in a husky voice. "Now I'm going to fuck you. You think you're ready for that?"

Tony nodded obediently, unable to speak.

• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •• ~ •


	3. Chapter 3

**(see warnings in chapter 1)**

 **Chapter 3  
** **Enforcement**

 _February 28, 2009, at Gibbs' house in Alexandria_

Gibbs slid slicked-up fingers between Tony's butt cheeks. He was surprisingly gentle but Tony jumped skittishly anyway. "Easy, easy boy," Gibbs said soothingly. He teased the sensitive skin around Tony's puckered hole before he slipped two fingers inside. He withdrew them slowly and slid them back in, time and again, reassuring Tony, "That's it. God, you're so hot. Fuck, I've wanted this for a long time. Wanted you."

Gibbs had wanted him, for a long time? Oh God, what had he gotten himself into? He could back out if he wanted to, right? He didn't have to do this. All he had to do was let go of the table, straighten up and walk out of here. Or…he could…he could stay. He could stay as he was, ass in the air, with his boss finger-fucking him. Because wasn't this what he wanted? Oh God. He did, and if he was being really, deep down truthful with himself, this was what he'd wanted, even more than getting Gibbs' undivided attention, ever since he'd tackled the older man in Baltimore. And hadn't he, truthfully, desperately wanted to be filled up by cock? By _Gibbs'_ cock? Because that's what came next, right?

Tony groaned. His heart was beating so fast he thought he was going to have a heart attack. Fingers thrust inside him, but they were too big, too…much. A little panicky, Tony made a small sound and jerked as if to get away, but Gibbs reached down with his free hand and took Tony's balls in one hand. He tugged at them none too gently, making Tony whimper.

"You can take it, yeah, that's my boy, that's good. You like that, don't you? I knew you would. You a pain-slut? You need to feel it hard to come? That's good because I'm gonna give it to you hard, and I can guarantee you're gonna scream yourself hoarse when you cum. You're gonna…"

Holy shit, this was porn at its best, this stream of filthy words spilling from Gibbs' mouth. Who'd have thought?

Gibbs was still talking. "…and by the time I'm finished with you, you won't even be able to walk, and my cum is gonna be slicking up your thighs. I don't care how tired and sore you are, or even if you're bleeding and crying for your mommy, you're gonna crawl over to me and wrap your lips around my cock, and you're gonna give me the best fucking blowjob you've ever given anyone." He grabbed Tony's hair and pulled. "You hear me?"

With a gasp, Tony cried, "Yes! Yes, sir!"

Gibbs licked him up his spine. Hot breath caressed his ear. Blunt fingers worked his hole, probing and stroking deep inside. Gibbs was groaning, "Fuck, you taste good." Gibbs' mouth was on his ass, sucking hard, teeth scraping the skin still tender from horseback riding, and then he bit him hard before retreating.

Tony cried out, "Ow!" Gibbs' iron hand smacked Tony's ass. Tony shouted, "Ow!" again and reared back. "I'm still saddle sore!"

Gibbs' palm was hot on the small of his back; all it took was a little pressure, and Tony was flat against the table once again. His cheek was plastered to the smooth wood, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and he realized that he had never let go. He was anchored there as surely as if he'd been tied in place, all because that was what Gibbs had told him not to let go.

Tony squirmed. Gibbs must have added another finger because the stretch was starting to burn. How many was that? Three now? Jesus, please do not let him try this with his entire fist, Tony thought, shaking. Gibbs added more lube and stretched him wide with his thumbs, massaging and pulling a little, and after a bit, Tony relaxed and opened up for him with a long, low moan. Gibbs' fingers, four of them, heavily slicked up with lubricant, slowly slid in. Tony moaned deeply at the intrusion. Like giving birth, he thought in a haze, only in reverse. "I can't…I can't take any more," he said, panting. "I…I've never done this before."

Gibbs tugged at Tony's balls and rolled them in one hand, while his other hand caressed him from within. "Shhh. You can…you _can_. I'm going to help you. You trust me?"

Gibbs' fingers brushed against a sensitive spot, just _there_ , causing Tony to gasp with shock and pleasure. His body reacted swiftly and completely to Gibbs' touch, with tremors tingling up his spine, his legs turning to jelly, thighs quivering. His dick, squashed against the table's hard surface, was hard and leaking. He tried not to whimper. Gibbs' fingers did their magic, stirring something deep inside him, and Tony rocked his ass to get even more. Oh fuck, that felt unbelievably good!

As Gibbs' fingers slid in and out of his ass, Tony thought, this was what he'd been aching for, all these years. He'd longed to be touched like this, to be desired in a base, carnal way – but only by Gibbs. And the thing was, it wasn't entirely about sex. It was about fear and pain and pleasure and lust, and a deep-seated need to let go and simply surrender all of himself to this man. But how did Gibbs know what he needed? How had he _known_? Jesus, he must have seen through every wall and layer of protection he had erected. All this time, he'd _known_. A sob escaped at the revelation, and he had to concentrate to stop the tears that threatened to embarrass him.

Gibbs' erection nudged against Tony's thigh, leaving a damp trail when he moved. Tony arched his back and spread his legs in invitation. The fingers inside him turned like a corkscrew, widening him, preparing him for something bigger, he knew.

"Answer me. Do you trust me?" Gibbs growled.

It was a lot to take in, but Tony said between pants, "Yes, I trust you."

"Good." Gibbs' fingers came slithering out with a wet squelching sound. Hard knuckles covered in lube rubbed the spot behind Tony's balls, back and forth, drawing a whimper from his parted lips. With his cheek flush against the table, he watched his knuckles whiten as his fingers tightened their grip on the edge. The tabletop had damp spots on it, snot and sweat. Maybe a tear or two. He sniffed and breathed through his mouth, but didn't move.

Gibbs' hips nestled against Tony's rear, and he could feel the soft cloth of Gibbs' t-shirt sliding over his back when he adjusted his position. One of Gibbs' arms slid under his chest, and he was pulled a few inches off the table. Legs trembling, Tony pressed his ass against Gibbs' groin.

Gibbs said in a husky, low voice, "I've been wanting this… _you_ …for a long time. I'm going to fuck you, and I'm not planning on going easy on you. I know you can take it. You understand?"

Tony swallowed hard and nodded. He felt as though he was signing away his rights. His dick was hurting from being squashed against the unforgiving wooden tabletop, but now it was free, he knew it wouldn't take much for him to come: a touch, Gibbs' hand…

Gibbs entered Tony for the first time, slowly and carefully, despite the warning he would likely be rough. Tony's muscles resisted, and even though Gibbs' fingers had opened him up, it was still painful.

Tony cried out and struggled at the intrusion. "Wait! Wait!" His hands, no longer clinging to the table, struck out at Gibbs. What the fuck had he been thinking, what had he gotten himself into?

Gibbs hugged him tight, arms like iron bands around Tony's chest. "Stand up," he directed. He straightened his back and drew Tony with him, until they were standing upright, as one.

At the change of position, Gibbs' dick slid in a little further, leaving Tony panting, "Oh…God…oh…oh…oh…"

The older man was breathing as heavily as Tony. He didn't withdraw, just waited, rubbing his cheek against Tony's neck. "Take it easy. Breathe. Wait it out," Gibbs said, as if he understood that Tony's struggle wasn't so much to get away, as to come to terms with the intensity of the moment. Only when Tony had settled down did Gibbs ask, "You want this to stop? That what you want? You had enough? You want me to let you go, or you want me to fuck you so hard you're gonna pass out?"

Tony took in large gulps of air and tried to deal with an overwhelming rush of emotions: lust and confusion, even some anger at Gibbs for putting him in this position. "I…I want you to fuck me 'til I pass out, please. I do," he moaned, knowing it was completely the truth. Tony knew that he'd do anything for the man, that he had some kind of warped devotion for him, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared. "I don't...don't know what to do," he whispered, shaking. "I don't…do this."

Gibbs relaxed his grip on Tony and rubbed a palm in circles on his chest, tweaking one nipple and then the other, causing Tony to gasp. Gibbs asked, with surprising patience, "You don't do what?"

"This. I've never…Not with a man. And I… I don't want you to see me…like this," Tony said. He didn't want to be splayed out with his vulnerabilities exposed. He leaned forward, taking Gibbs with him, lying limply on the table, his forehead resting on its cool surface. He closed his eyes tightly, hating that he was embarrassing himself.

"You don't need to hide," Gibbs breathed into his ear. "There's no shame in taking what I'm giving you. D'you want this?"

"Oh God…I do but…Everyone will know."

"No," Gibbs said firmly. "This is only about you and me. Here and now. Nobody else matters." Gibbs chuckled fondly. "Besides, d'you really think I don't know you?"

Tony's voice was shaky when he whispered, "You know me?"

"Since the beginning, I've known what you need. You don't like the idea of me taking the lead, telling you what to do, but you need it. I'm here for you. You don't need to fight it any more."

Gibbs seemed so sure that it gave Tony pause. He'd been fighting with his hidden desires for so long, maybe it was time to give into them. But could he really relinquish everything to this man? He knew that Gibbs would never intentionally hurt him, but Tony was afraid just the same – not of Gibbs so much as of his own reaction. Gibbs wouldn't go easy on him, and he'd take what he wanted, but he'd also stop the moment Tony said no. _If_ he said no.

Tony could feel Gibbs' cock, embedded within him, pulsing with every beat of Gibbs' heart. Tony tentatively moved his hips a little, from side to side, and something eased up; Gibbs' cock slid in deeper.

Gibbs made a strangled sound and muttered, "Fuck," under his breath, as if he was having trouble holding back.

That's when Tony knew without a doubt that he really did want this. He wanted the connection between them to be complete, even if it meant letting go. "I want…"

Gibbs growled impatiently, "What?"

Tony turned his head so he could see Gibbs' face out of the corner of his eye. Gibbs had a possessive gleam in his eyes, but there was also desire in them as well as what Tony thought just might be affection. This meant something to Gibbs, Tony thought with amazement. _He_ meant something to him. For all his brusque ways, Gibbs actually cared for him. A lump formed in Tony's throat. How was it he had he never seen that look before? Had Gibbs been hiding it or had he only just allowed his emotions to come forth? Maybe he wasn't the only one putting on an act every day.

What did he want? He wanted Gibbs to smile at him, to love him, to _own_ him, body and soul. "I w-want you to fuck me," Tony said, stuttering slightly. "Please?"

Gibbs gave him a predatory smile. "Yeah?"

Tony nodded and then said firmly, "Yeah." He took a deep breath and prayed he had made the right choice.

•◊•◊•◊•

Instead of just going for it, using him, fucking him hard and fast, as Tony had expected, Gibbs pulled out of him with a grunt. "Here," he said, guiding Tony over to the kitchen sink. It was a large, farmhouse sink, heavy soapstone, sturdy as hell. "Hold onto it," Gibbs said, pushing Tony's legs further apart and getting him to hang onto the sink to brace himself. He took hold of Tony's hips and pulled at them until his ass was sticking out.

Tony hated being so exposed but he told himself to suck it up.

"That's good," Gibbs said, stroking a hand down Tony's back, steadying him.

Gibbs grabbed the tube of lube and slicked himself up again. Without any warning, he lined himself up and pressed his cock into Tony once again. It was just as painful as the first time, and Tony bit his lip to prevent himself from groaning. Gibbs began thrusting slowly, embedding his shaft in Tony's body a bit deeper each time. Slow and steady, stretching Tony out, like an athlete warming up before an event. Every time Tony almost got used to the feeling of Gibbs' penis inside him, Gibbs would try a different angle. He kept changing it up, alternating slow repetitive penetration with jackrabbit thrusts that hit Tony's prostate dead-on, making Tony cry out in a high, increasingly desperate voice, "Uh, uh, uh…"

The prelude over, Gibbs plunged in deeply and held his position, arms trapping Tony against the sink, forcing him up on his toes. Gibbs spent a few minutes licking, kissing and biting his way across the top of Tony's shoulders, nipping at the nape of his neck, tugging at Tony's hair hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Tony gripped the edge of the sink for support, moaning at the fullness of the cock inside him.

Gibbs relaxed a little, and started thrusting again, almost languidly, his balls slapping against Tony's ass. He spent ages caressing Tony's chest and pulling at his nipples with sweaty fingers. He worked the hard nubs until they were dark pink and sore as hell, and all the while Tony was rocking his ass back on Gibbs' cock, and making mewling noises.

"Tell me how much you want this, how you love my cock stuffed in your ass. Tell me how a fuck-slut like you stayed a virgin for so long. Huh? You finger yourself when you're in bed at night? You wish it was something big and hot, don't you? Well now you've got me, the real thing, and my cock is the only cock you'll ever know. You understand?"

"Yes," Tony gasped, not caring that Gibbs called him names. He was a fuck-slut and, he was sure, far worse. "God, yes!" Gibbs pinched and twisted his nipples cruelly, leaving Tony breathing harshly and begging for him to stop because, "I'm going to come. Please, please!" He would too, just from the pain in his nipples; it went straight to his dick.

"You don't come until I say you can," Gibbs ordered. By the time he finished playing with Tony's nipples, Tony was crying for real. He hadn't come though.

Gibbs soothed him, licked at his tears, and Tony could feel him smiling against his cheek. "Good boy," Gibbs said softly. His hand slid down Tony's chest to his belly, taking his erect, swollen cock between his thumb and two fingers. His fingers rubbed up and down the shaft, his touch light until Tony started to thrust. Gibbs rubbed his palm over the sensitive head, sending Tony through the roof.

Tony wished he could stop moaning. He wished the edge of the sink wasn't pressing so hard into his stomach, and that they had a nice soft bed to collapse upon, because his legs were shaking and about to give out at any moment. But Gibbs relentlessly pounded into him, his huge cock brushing against _that spot_ with every thrust.

With a ragged moan, Tony closed his eyes, wondering vaguely how this could even be happening. He had wanted Gibbs with a distant, safe kind of lust for years. Even while he was attracted to the man, he always knew exactly where the boundaries were. He could deal with the heartache of unrequited love, but this? This was far worse. This was an act of greed, not love, and even if he'd played into it, had responded with equal passion, it could not possibly endure. This was likely to be the first and last time they ever had sex, no matter what Gibbs had said.

Gibbs thrust erratically, stiffened and ejaculated deep inside Tony, grinding out, "Damn it, fucking damn it! Tony!" His hand tightened around Tony's cock and Tony came hard, spurting all over the kitchen sink.

Breathing heavily, Gibbs clung to him, practically holding them both up. Eventually he moved back enough for his softening cock to slide out. Tony tried to get his bearings and wobbled a little, but Gibbs caught him around the waist and hugged him from behind, his chin hard against Tony's shoulder.

"Fuck," said Tony, laughing in a mixture of amazement, relief, and satisfaction.

Gibbs grunted, "Fuck," agreeing with him.

There was come and lube trickling down Tony's thighs, but Gibbs was hanging onto him pretty tight, so it didn't look like he was in any hurry to clean up. Tony stood there, enjoying being held by Gibbs' strong arms, absently looking through the window over the sink. It was getting dark and the light from the kitchen spilled across the patio and touched the brick barbeque Gibbs had built himself last summer. A slight movement caught Tony's eye and he looked up.

Just beyond the thick bushes that marked the perimeter of Gibbs' property, he could see the neighbor's house, and standing at an upstairs window was a man and a woman, staring straight down at him.

Tony could make out that the next-door neighbors' eyes were wide and their hands were covering their mouths. They were laughing. With dawning horror, Tony realized that they had been watching him and Gibbs going at it for the last twenty minutes. And what was worse, they had obviously enjoyed the free entertainment.

"Gibbs…" Tony's voice rose in panic. "Gibbs?"

"What?"

"Your neighbors," Tony said urgently, motioning towards the window right in front of them.

Gibbs groaned, "Aw, hell," and reached past Tony to pull down the blind.

Tony turned, upset and shaking with anger, to confront Gibbs.

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair, almost sheepishly. His face and neck were flushed. "Forgot," he mumbled. "They're sorta nosy."

"What? You knew they might–? You _knew_ your neighbors like to watch?" The idea of a third party watching them having sex made Tony break out in a cold sweat. Thinking he was going to lose his dinner, he turned back to the sink.

Gibbs reached out – to comfort, to appease him, maybe? – but Tony pushed him away. He glared at Gibbs and muttered in a low, dangerous tone, "Don't!" Deciding he wasn't going to throw up after all, he grabbed a few sheets of paper towels to clean up the back of his thighs. He was embarrassed to find his hand was shaking.

Gibbs said, "Let me," and took the paper towels from Tony's hand. He ran some warm water and moistened them, then gently cleaned Tony up.

Tony stood stiffly while avoiding looking at him.

When Gibbs had finished and tossed the paper towels in the trash, Tony started to move away, but Gibbs wrapped his arms around him from behind and whispered into Tony's neck, "Don't go." Gibbs' breath was hot and his voice sexy, but Tony was annoyed that he could be so angry with Gibbs and yet the man still had the power to make him weak in the knees.

"Don't go?" Tony questioned harshly. "You think I want to stick around after this? Let go of me."

"Don't go." Gibbs slowly ran his hands across Tony's belly and chest, a gesture meant to calm and appease. He said succinctly, "Do not go anywhere."

Tony turned within Gibbs' arms, and was puzzled to see a look of unease in his blue eyes. "I can't go home?" Tony asked.

Gibbs abruptly sighed, and said, "No, I… I mean, don't leave. Don't go to… away."

"Why would I…?" Then it dawned on Tony that Gibbs believed that he had inherited some of Uncle Clive's estate. And if he were rich, he'd quit and move away. That's what everyone would assume, and why wouldn't they? And that was why Gibbs had been giving him those odd looks since Tony had received the phone call from his uncle's solicitor.

Gibbs was afraid of losing him.

At that realization, a warm feeling blossomed in Tony's chest. "So you only made a move on me because you thought I was leaving?"

Gibbs ran a hand up and down Tony's arm and settled his hand on the side of his neck, clasping it gently. "Yeah."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Would you have ever… let me know how you feel if this inheritance hadn't come up?"

"I thought you knew," Gibbs said lamely, shifting his feet and looking away momentarily.

"Knew?" Tony didn't know when he'd seen Gibbs appear so uncomfortable.

"That I… liked you," Gibbs said, caressing Tony's cheek before letting his hand drop to his bare hip. "Like this, outside work."

"How the hell would I know? I didn't know. I didn't even…"

"Didn't what?" Gibbs asked with a frown.

"I didn't consider it was a possibility," Tony said stiffly.

Gibbs looked hopeful. "That mean you thought about it? About us?"

"Maybe," Tony allowed.

Gibbs stared into Tony's eyes before asking, "But it's a possibility now?"

Tony snapped, "You mean that we're going to fuck again?"

Gibbs' cheeks colored and he shifted his weight. As he was still holding onto Tony, it was a bit like a dance move, and Tony moved with him. Gibbs looked down and Tony followed the direction of his eyes. Their flaccid penises rubbed against each other, but with just the slightest amount of friction they started to harden. Gibbs smirked, and Tony reluctantly smiled. "That'd be good, more fucking, and maybe we could do something more," said Gibbs. "If you're stayin', that is."

"Something more? Like what?" Tony asked.

Gibbs fidgeted, which only made their cocks harden even more. He let out a huff of breath and said in a quiet voice, "You know, get close."

Tony waited. He enjoyed seeing Gibbs squirm.

With a sigh, Gibbs said, "Hell, you know I care about you, DiNozzo and I want us to…to be together. Like this, but… maybe go out or something. I don't know, grab some dinner, listen to some music?"

"Uh-huh. So what you're saying is that you want to date me?"

Gibbs frowned for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. I could do that."

"Well, don't force yourself," Tony said sourly. "If you just want to fuck me, say so."

Blue eyes stared at Tony, and Gibbs looked affronted. "I do want to fuck you, but I want more. I want… I want us to try to… you know, have a… I guess you'd call it a relationship."

Oh my God, had Gibbs just said he wanted a _relationship_? Tony waited a long time before replying. The way Gibbs had asked him if he'd go out with him was backhanded at best. Not exactly romantic. But still, the sex had been pretty hot, and there was no doubt that Gibbs had desired him. He had said he cared about him, but what did that mean? Like fuck-buddies, or friends, or something more? "A relationship?" Tony inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"You gonna make me say it again?" Gibbs replied, narrowing his eyes.

Tony couldn't help smiling at Gibbs' exasperated tone. "I just might."

Gibbs snorted. "I'd like to take you out on a date. Is tomorrow too soon?"

"Yes, Gibbs, I would like to go out with you. And I'd like to have a try at a relationship." Tony laughed, suddenly giddy. "Wow, sure. We're going to go out together. Yeah, we can do this." Tony found it endearing that Gibbs had soldiered through and had actually asked him out, even though he'd obviously found it difficult to get the words out. Gibbs had had no trouble speaking up when they were having sex though. If they were really going to embark upon a relationship, they were both going to have to learn to open up, to be truthful to each other. He couldn't allow his own fears to get in the way – this was too important to screw up over his concern about being outed. _Gibbs_ was too important.

Once Tony made the decision, everything was different; the world was cast in a warm, all-encompassing light. With a fond laugh, Tony gave Gibbs a big hug and assured him, "I _really_ did not inherit any money, and I'm not going anywhere. I don't need Uncle Clive's money, anyway, because I've got you. And that's better than any amount of cash, even better than a Ferrari."

That brought out a smile on Gibbs' face, _finally_ , and it was a wondrous sight.

"Damned right it is," Gibbs agreed.

He leaned in to kiss Tony, but Tony averted his mouth and said firmly, "Next time, you pull the shades down first." Gibbs nodded and they kissed. It didn't take long for Tony's dick to harden again, and he could tell Gibbs was as eager as he was. He pulled away from Gibbs' insistent lips and said, "I want my first time making love with you to be in a bed."

"You can't perform under pressure?" Gibbs asked with a crooked smile, nodding in the direction of the shaded window.

"This time it's going to be a private performance."

Gibbs's smile broadened. He stripped off his t-shirt and gave Tony an eyeful of graying chest hairs and a couple of dusky pink nipples, before wrapping his fingers around Tony's wrist and pulling him upstairs and into the bedroom. Ever so slowly, Gibbs made love to Tony with his hands, his mouth and his heart, until he extracted a long, exultant shout from Tony that not only they, but Gibbs' neighbors as well, would remember for a very long time.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•


	4. Chapter 4

**(see warnings in chapter 1)**

 **Chapter 4  
** **Consummation**

 _Four weeks later, March 30, 2009, Washington, DC, cinema parking lot_

Gibbs says, "Get in, dammit," and wrestles Tony into the pitch black of the back seat to continue what he'd started in the parking lot. It feels even colder inside the car than outside, if that's possible. They kiss for a short while, though Tony knows that Gibbs wants to fuck him without any more foreplay than is absolutely necessary. He doesn't mind. Fast or slow, it's always good to have Gibbs inside of him, and he'll do whatever he wants. Knowing that without fail Gibbs will take the lead means the pressure is off him. He might put up a bit of a fight, but Gibbs will always win. It's just the way it is between them, ever since they first met.

When Gibbs accidentally knees him in the groin, Tony complains, "Shit, this seemed a lot easier when I was a teenager." Gibbs doesn't seem at all put out by the cramped quarters, and somehow he turns Tony over and strips him of his pants before he can do it for himself. Apparently that is one of Gibbs' hidden talents. With a purring growl, Tony says, "Rrrrow, I love it, all caveman."

Gibbs' reply is to smack his ass. Tony squeals, partly in surprise and pain, because it was a stinging blow, and partly in delight. One thing about having sex with a man, and especially sex with Gibbs, is that there's a roughness, a heavy handedness that he never got from any woman, and he likes that – a lot. Tony asks, "You're not gonna spank me with a copy of the Geneva Conventions, are you, Boss? Articles 13 to 16 state that prisoners of war must be treated humanely–"

Gibbs growls, "Guinness got it across the face, not the ass," referring to a scene in the movie.

"I can take any punishment you want to dole out," Tony counters hopefully as he gets on all fours, hands and knees braced on the black vinyl seat, his ass exposed to the cold air. He's still wearing his leather jacket and turtleneck, and his Burberry plaid scarf is wrapped around his neck, which makes the nudity of his lower half seem all the more blatant, especially with his cock aroused and bobbing in the frigid air and his balls swinging heavily to and fro. The sensation of Gibbs' clothing rubbing across his skin – because Gibbs' version of undressing is simply unzipping his fly, pulling out his dick, and getting on with it – is immensely erotic. Immediately Tony's cock springs to attention and he strokes himself and moans, but he needs both hands to remain balanced on the back seat.

Tony can see out of the car window that the cinema is closing up, the exterior lights turning off one by one. "What if someone sees us?" Gibbs doesn't reply but he can't let it go. "They might have a security guard, and–"

Tony is cut off when Gibbs' strong hands grip his hipbones and tugs him back, almost aggressively, against his groin. "I'll protect you," Gibbs says gruffly. Tony's about to say something else, like he knows that Gibbs gets off on making love in public places, when there's a familiar feeling of the head of Gibbs' cock nudging bluntly at his hole, and it renders him wordless. He closes his eyes with a sigh and lets Gibbs take over.

Tony knows Gibbs' cock well by now, its varying colors and sizes, and the fat vein on its underside that Tony loves to trace with a sloppy tongue, just so he can feel Gibbs shudder and grip his hair and call out his name. There's pressure and Gibbs inhales loudly, and with a roll of his hips he's in. There's the sense of fullness that, for some reason, comes as a surprise to Tony every time Gibbs fucks him. It's not as if they haven't done it plenty of times in the past couple of weeks, just that it's a shock, and an invasion that seems unnatural at first. Being skewered by Gibbs never seems quite so scary once he starts to move. They'll settle into a natural rhythm and Gibbs will take care of him, Tony knows.

Tony can feel Gibbs' cock thicken even more as soon as it's inside of him, and the heat of it is a powerful contrast to the chill air inside the classic car. Without any niceties, Gibbs begins thrusting, each stroke long and sweeping just like the way he planes the smooth wooden planks of his boat's hull. Gibbs' thrusts are consistent, and he maintains a firm downward pressure, gradually increasing the amount of force he puts into every stroke.

It doesn't take long for Tony to let himself go, and as soon as he submits, Gibbs makes a sound of approval. Although Gibbs can't possibly see Tony smile in response, he places a wet, searing kiss on the tender, exposed flesh behind his ear, just above the plaid woolen scarf, and murmurs, "Good, that's it."

By now Tony's eyes have adjusted to the darkness and he can make out the vapor from their breath steaming up the windows. Gibbs is emitting regular exhalations, grunting like a steam engine working its way up a steep grade. Within a few minutes he's riding Tony's ass hard enough to make them both forget everything except for their impending orgasms. Soon the thrusts become erratic, and Tony's having a hard time staying on his hands and knees. He's being driven forward an inch at a time until his head presses against the panel of the door, so he reaches out blindly and braces one hand against the door and pushes back. Gibbs doesn't let up, pounding away in Tony's ass. Tony cries out because it feels like Gibbs' thick cock is being rammed in so deep he'll never recover from the pummeling he's getting. His ass was so bruised after horseback riding in Arizona that he could barely sit down for a week, but this is different, a much more intimate kind of pain.

Gibbs hits Tony's prostate again and again, and Tony's mouth is open wide, drawing in great mouthfuls of air. He's making animalistic noises that are being drawn from the depths of his belly. Gibbs is moaning and crying out, "Damn it, fucking damn it," like he always does. There's a certain mystery to those words; the one time Tony asked what the 'damn its' were all about Gibbs shrugged and looked uncomfortable. Tony just hopes that Gibbs isn't beating up on himself for something he thinks he's done – or hasn't accomplished – so he makes sure to tell Gibbs, later when they're cooled off, how incredibly great it was. And Tony always means what he says.

When Gibbs reaches around and takes hold of Tony's cock, slick with pre-come, and rubs his callused thumb hard across its sensitive head, Tony can't control the obscene, guttural cry that spews from his mouth. "Jesus fuck! Fuck!" Tony spasms and his muscles clench down and he can feel Gibbs coming, hard, deep inside of him, and his entire body flushes and trembles in response. For the first time since they got back from Arizona, Tony feels hot.

Gibbs is shouting something in his ear, but Tony is deaf to the meaning. Tony's hips are jerking, thrusting into Gibbs' fist that's clenched way-too-tight around his shaft. His balls feel impossibly tight and he comes, spurting thick streams into Gibbs' hand and across the back seat of the car, and the thought that 'at least vinyl is easy to clean up' runs through Tony's foggy brain before he passes out.

When Tony slowly comes to, Gibbs is weighing heavy on his back with his dick still buried inside of him, and he is whispering into the back of his neck, "Love you."

Tony is sure that Gibbs has no idea he's awake, and that he has heard his soft declaration of love.

•◊•◊•◊•

 _1:30 AM, March 31, 2009, at Gibbs' house in Alexandria_

It's late, but Tony sneaks out of their warm bed and opens up his laptop that's sitting on top of the tall bureau. He glances back at the sleeping figure huddled under the heavy covers, and waits to make sure Gibbs hasn't awoken before he proceeds. Tony goes online and, with a few clicks, orders the special edition DVD of 1957's _The Bridge on the River Kwai_ , making sure he hits the option for the fastest delivery. Just before he clicks on the button that says 'confirm' he goes back to do more shopping, and adds two more items to his cart: a box of travel-size lube packets, and an industrial-size bottle of heavy duty upholstery cleaner.

Gibbs grumbles when Tony returns to bed, complaining about his cold feet. He sleepily nuzzles at Tony's neck and Tony turns his head so they kiss. It's nice, gentle and familiar, and he smiles and runs his hand lovingly down Gibbs' cheek.

Gibbs stills, searching Tony's eyes, and then he envelops him in a hug. He surprises Tony by saying, with great conviction, as if he's only just realized it and has to say the words aloud, "I love you, Tony."

Tony smiles and replies, "Yeah, I know, Jethro."

•◊•◊•◊• **the end •◊•◊•◊•**

Note: I had a couple of comments suggesting I dropped the ball on this story (or non-story) - which is true. I had a hard time getting into writing and had some health issues the past few months - however I'm back on the ball now and I may (no promises) rework this or write a sequel to complete the circle and make it more cohesive. Thanks for all who let me know they enjoyed it.


End file.
